


love will come to you.

by rtozier (strawbeddie)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Coming Out, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, bi richie rights but hes gay in this, not really though mostly internalized dumbassery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 16:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawbeddie/pseuds/rtozier
Summary: Turns out buddyfucking your childhood best friend without catching feelings isn't as easy as it sounds. Richie's shocked and disappointed.





	love will come to you.

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again  
warnings for: swearing, drinking, implied drug use (nothing graphic), stupidity

“I think I might be gay.” Richie blurts when he bursts into Eddie’s room one day. Eddie’s sitting on his bed, textbook open in front of him, highlighter hanging from between his parted lips. His roommates, Mike and Bill, are sitting cross legged on the floor, flashcards spread all around them. All three of them look up at that. “Hey, Bill. Hey, Mikey.” Richie adds, waving at them awkwardly. “I think I’m gay.” he repeats, looking at Eddie like he holds all the answers to the universe.

“H-hey, Richie.” Bill waves back, smiling lopsidedly. “Congratulations.” Richie likes Bill a lot. They were in the same sociology class freshman year, and he’s a cool guy to be around. Richie might even call them friends.

“Thanks, man.” Richie says, genuinely, clapping him on the back. Then he ruins it by adding, “Hey, no offense but i need you both,” he looks from Bill to Mike, “to get out.”

“They _live_ here, Richie, you can’t tell them to get out.” Eddie groans, rolling his eyes. He closes his textbook before looking at his friends sympathetically. “Do you guys mind? I think me and the trash mouth need to talk.” He’s eyeing Richie pointedly now, and it makes him feel like they’re kids again, and he’s just roped Eddie into doing something stupid that got them sent to the principal’s office for the third time that week.

Bill and Mike take it in stride, though, gathering up their bags and papers, and leaving Eddie’s room. Richie can hear them in the living room, settling down.

“Okay, Richie. Talk.” Eddie demands, so Richie does what he does best.

“It just makes sense, Eds.” Richie says, he’s laying on his back on Eddie’s bed, making himself comfortable. “That’s probably why I never really had any luck with the ladies.”

Eddie bites his tongue, because he doesn’t think Richie’s sexuality is why girls never liked him, but that’s a conversation for another day. Instead he nods along sympathetically.

“But you’ve had girlfriends?” Eddie tries, and Richie scoffs, shaking his head at him.

“Well, not anymore.” he says, shortly. “I was never really interested in any of them, you know? It’s like someone handed me a script, the costume fit well enough, and I did a damn good job at playing my part. That’s all it ever was.” His voice gets sorta far away, then, like the gravity of saying it for the first time out loud is weighing him down.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie says, because he is. “I didn’t know.”

He didn’t _know_, but he had hoped. He doesn’t dare say it out loud, though, holds it like a secret close to his chest.

“Neither did I.” Richie says back. It’s not a lie, really. He looks at the side of Eddie’s face from where he’s laying next to him. Looks at the slope of his nose, and the curve of his lips. It’s _not_ a lie, he didn’t _know_. 

Or maybe he always had.

+

“You’ve got to stop doing this.” Eddie says when Richie shows up at his apartment a couple of nights later, smelling like alcohol, and weed, and depression, if that had a smell.

“I went out.” Richie slurs, he stumbles over to the couch, kicking the coffee table on his way, laying on his back and watching the ceiling spin.

“No shit.” Eddie says, but he’s amused. He moves Richie’s long legs out of the way so he can sit at the end of the couch. He makes work of unlacing Richie’s shoes, taking them off for him.

“Sorry, Eds. I couldn’t remember where home was so I gave the driver your address. Don’t be mad.”

Eddie reaches over to take off Richie’s glasses, folding them before putting them on the coffee table. “I’m not mad, Richie.” And he’s not. Sure he has to be up for work in four hours; sure, he _might_ have to clean vomit off his living room floor come morning, but Eddie is, surprisingly, not mad.

He moves Richie’s legs again, then makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator and a couple of ibuprofen from his room on the way back.

“Don’t you wanna know why I went out, Eds?” Richie asks. He’s got his eyes closed now, and Eddie maybe lets himself stare at his face for a couple seconds too long.

“Not really, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

“For dick,” Richie says, proving Eddie’s point. “I went out because I wanted to get fucked.”

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat. “And what happened?”

“Nothing happened.” Richie moans, dejected. “I tried, but I didn’t want to…not with a stranger, I don’t- I thought that–” he cuts himself off, sighs. “And so then I got very drunk, and very high, and now I’m here. I’m sorry, Eds… Eddie, sorry.” Richie says again, fixating on Eddie’s name like he often does when he’s drunk.

“Don’t be sorry, Rich. It’s okay, _you’re_ okay. I get it.” Eddie says but even as the words leave his mouth, he’s not sure he does. 

Richie just nods miserably in response.

“You could always try dating.” He suggests, but the words leave a sour taste in his mouth.

“Yeah, but it takes too long. And how do you even find people? What if no one wants me, Eds?”

_Why wouldn’t they?_ Eddie thinks. He leans back against the couch and sighs. His fingers absentmindedly rub Richie’s ankle where it’s resting in his lap while Eddie chews on his bottom lip anxiously.

“If you don’t want to get fucked by a stranger,” He starts before he can talk himself out of it. “I could help you. With that.”

“Yeah? You would fuck me, Eddie?” Richie asks. When he opens his eyes to look into Eddie’s, they’re clearer than they’ve been since he got here.

“I like to have sex.” Eddie says defensively, shrugging, and Richie struggles to sit up, get closer to eye level.

“Yeah, but you would fuck _me_?” he stresses.

“Well, yeah.” Eddie says softly. “You’re my best friend, and it’s not like you’re awful to look at, so it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship.” He shrugs again.

Richie grins, already reaching to undo his shirt. His fingers fumble sloppily with the buttons. “So we doing this now, then, or what?” He asks, and Eddie scoffs, affronted.

“No, I’m not fucking you right now!” He mock whispers. “You’re fucking drunk, asshole.”

“Oh, yeah.” Richie says, as if he somehow forgot he so fucked up that he forgot his own address which is how he ended up at Eddie’s house at three o clock in the morning to begin with.

“_Yeah._” Eddie says back, mockingly. Then, more serious, “Sleep on it. If you still want to do this tomorrow, when you’re _sober_, then let me know. But right now I need you to drink this,” He hands Richie the water bottle which he downs in like, 3 seconds flat. “And go take a shower.” Eddie gets up from the couch and pats Richie’s leg.

“Don’t drown. And don’t wake up Mikey and Bill.” With that, he’s gone. When Eddie gets back to his room, the first thing he does is turn off the alarm he has set on his phone. His job will be fine without him for one day, surely.

+

The smell of coffee is what wakes Eddie up. He sighs and turns over in bed, nearly falling on his ass in his mad scramble to get up when he sees Richie. He’s sitting cross-legged at the edge of Eddie’s bed, elbows resting on his knees, chin in his hands as he stares at Eddie.

“God Richie, what the fuck are you doing in here?” Eddie asks, voice rough with sleep.

“I made you coffee.” Richie says as if that answers Eddie’s question, tilting his chin towards the still-steaming cup he placed on Eddie’s nightstand.

Eddie narrows his eyes at him from where he’s leaning against the headboard now.

“You’re forgiven.” Eddie concedes, reaching for the cup. He closes his eyes and moans at the first sip. Eddie’s such a cliche but he honestly doesn’t think he could function without his morning coffee.

In his coffee-induced bliss he doesn’t see the way Richie licks his lips, doesn’t notice the way his pulse quickens.

“Mmm, what time is it?” Eddie asks, eyes still closed. he’s got his head resting back against the headboard as he waits for the caffeine to do its job.

“Almost ten.” Richie says, and Eddie hums. He usually doesn’t let himself sleep this late, even if he doesn’t have to be at work.

They sit in companionable silence for a while before Richie asks quietly, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Eddie asks, because he’s an asshole. He knows exactly what Richie’s talking about.

“What you said last night.” Richie retorts, because he’s an asshole, too.

“_I_ wasn’t drunk.” Eddie remarks. “Do you still want it?”

“Yeah,” Richie breathes, leaning in. “I want it.”

“Then I’ll give it to you.” Eddie says before climbing out of bed, stretching his stiff muscles. “But first I need at least one more cup of this,” he grabs the mug from his nightstand, and chugs the rest of the coffee, “some food, and a shower. Not even in that order.”

“Toast and eggs okay?”

“Sounds good.” Eddie calls as he pads into the bathroom, closing the door before he hears Richie let out a quiet breath of, “god damn.”

+

Eddie comes out of the shower smelling like the peppermint soap Mike had recommended he try.

“_It’s good for stress._” He said as Eddie eyed the $11 bottle skeptically. “_And it makes you feel super clean._” Mike adds, going for the jugular. “_If you don’t like it, I’ll give you your $10.99 back, Eddie. Promise._”

He smiles at the memory, and he’s still smiling when walks into the kitchen and sees Richie at the table, food set out in front of him, a place for Eddie already set.

“Two eggs over hard and two pieces of toast–_well done but not burnt_–” He mocks in what’s supposed to be Eddie’s voice, “with grape jelly.” Richie announces when he sees Eddie come in.

“Thanks, I’d kill for you.” Eddie says honestly before digging in.

After, when they’re done eating and the dishes are in the washer, they settle into the living room to play Mortal Kombat.

Eddie turns to Richie after beating his ass three rounds straight, and says “You know we actually have to _talk_ about this right?”

“I know.” Richie says, eyes on the screen as he chooses a new character as if that’s going to help him win against Eddie.

Eddie puts down his controller, and turns off the TV, staring at the side of Richie’s face expectantly.

“What, you mean now?” Richie asks.

“Yes, _now._”

“Okay…” Richie says, putting down his controller, too. He turns to face Eddie on the couch, eyebrows raised as if to say “_go on._”

Eddie suddenly wishes he were better at saying words. “So, we’re going to have sex.” He says smoothly, making a face at himself.

“_Jesus_.” Richie says under his breath. “You do know I’m not actually a virgin, right, Eddie? I _have_ had sex before.” Richie rolls his eyes. But then he says, quieter, “Just not with anyone I actually wanted to have sex with.”

Eddie blows out a breath. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry for, Eds.”

Eddie nods. “But you’ve never done anything with a guy before, right? It’s different.”

“You know I haven’t.” Richie says defensively, crossing his arms across his chest like an attempt to put up a wall between himself and Eddie, and that just won’t do. They’ve always been open and honest with each other.

“I’m not judging you, Rich, I swear. We just need to lay all the cards on the table if we’re going to do whatever this is.”

Richie relaxes a little bit. “Okay, sure.”

“Okay, so you’ve never been with a guy, but have you ever…” He trails off, wondering if there’s a more sensitive way to ask your best friend if he’s ever had his own fingers up his ass before.

Luckily, Richie beats him to it.

“Fingered myself?” He guesses, throwing his head back and laughing loudly. “Let me tell you something, Eds. These fingers,” he wiggles them in front of Eddie’s face. “Are magical. Do I look like a guy who hasn’t fingered himself before? C’mon, man.”

“What are you even _talking_ about? How the fuck am I supposed to answer that?” Eddie asks, incredulous, slapping Richie’s fingers from in front of him.

It’s easier after that; talking once the tension is broken.

Eddie is sure to ask Richie about his boundaries.

“I don’t have any?” Richie asks, unsure, biting his own lip nervously.

Eddie sighs, holding eye contact with him. “I need to know, Rich. What’s on and off limits?”

“Jesus, Eds, we’re fucking, not applying to be life partners. You treat all of your hook ups like this?” Richie doesn’t mean any harm, but Eddie still feels it like a slap to the face.

It’s his turn to fold his arms across his chest, narrowing his eyes at Richie. “Fuck you, man. _Yes_, I like to set up boundaries before I sleep with someone because it’s _important_.” He draws out the last word slowly, like he’s talking to a particularly inattentive child.

“Sorry, Eds.” Richie holds up his hands in surrender, but he’s still a little hesitant, unsure.

Eddie takes pity on him. “Okay, how about this: can I tease you?” He asks, still not breaking eye contact. “Can I pull your hair? Can I kiss your mouth? Can I touch you all over?”

Richie swallows visibly. “Please. I want all of that.”

Eddie hums. “Yeah, me too. I’ll make it so good for you, Richie, I swear.” He says, and Richie doesn’t doubt that for a second.

+

Richie’s never been this hard before in his life. He guesses it’s his dick’s way of thanking him for finally fucking someone he’s into.

“You’re welcome, little buddy.” He thinks nonsensically, but when Eddie pauses from where he’s fingering Richie, and says “I’m sorry, what?” Richie realizes he must’ve said that out loud.

Who can blame him, though? Eddie’s got two skilled fingers pumping in and out of him, driving Richie insane, especially when he crooks them just right.

Richie wiggles his hips impatiently. “C’mon, Eds, keep going.” He begs.

Eddie snorts from behind him, but complies. Pausing again to add more lube to his fingers before pushing in a third.

The stretch is a lot but it’s good, it’s _so_ good. Eddie’s been working him long enough that Richie feels like he’s going to combust if he doesn’t get more, soon.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready.”

“Little bit more.” Eddie says, ignoring Richie’s pleas and keeping up a steady rhythm. 

“Come the fuck on, Eds, your dick isn’t even that—”

“Don’t even try it, Rich. I won’t believe you.” Eddie cuts him off with a purposeful twist of his wrist, fingers brushing expertly over Richie’s prostate.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s good. Eddie, _please_.” Richie hangs his head and tries to breathe through the pleasure.

Eddie extricates his fingers then, wiping them on the bed sheet before he rolls on a condom and lines himself up, pushing in slowly—so slowly.

God, Richie feels every inch of him. It’s _a lot_, it might even be too much, but Richie’s never felt so full in his life.

“Don’t move, don’t move.” Richie pleads as he struggles to adjust to the feeling of Eddie inside of him.

“I won’t, shhh, it’s okay. Try to relax.” Eddie soothes from behind him, rubbing Richie’s flanks soothingly.

“I’m fucking relaxed.” Richie says tensely, but he focuses on his breathing, feels his muscles loosen with each inhale and exhale.

“Okay.” Richie says after a minute or two. “Go slow, please.” He doesn’t think he could handle anything else right now.

“Got you, Rich. I won’t hurt you.” Eddie mumbles, and Richie believes him.

It goes from feeling weird to feeling really, really good.

Eddie must be working his dick magic or something, and Richie tells him as much.

“That shit is like, enchanted. Stroke game scary good.” He pants as Eddie speeds up the pace a little.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up? Jesus.”

“You know I don’t.”

The thing is, it’s a little overwhelming and devastating, because Richie didn’t know sex could feel like this.

He’s on his hands and knees with Eddie on his knees behind him, and he hasn’t even had a hand on his dick yet, but Richie feels like he could come already, just from this, just from Eddie fucking him so slow, and deep, and good.

Richie might get a little lost in it.

“Here, tilt your hips back…yeah like that.” Eddie’s urging before starting to fuck him for real. This new angle allows for him to brush against Richie’s prostate on almost every other thrust. Richie’s a mess beneath him, head hanging, arms trembling as he tries to hold himself up.

“Think I’m close, Eds. God, you’re gonna make me come already, what the fuck.” Richie cries, bracing himself for what he already knows is gonna be one of the craziest orgasms of his life. 

He doesn’t stand a chance when Eddie reaches under him and wraps his hand around Richie’s dick, stroking in time with his thrusts.

Richie slams his fist against the bed, and shouts “Fuck! _God_, Eddie.”

Eddie just hums and starts moving faster, hips slamming against Richie, knocking him closer and closer to the headboard with each thrust, and Richie’s fucking done for.

Richie’s shaking arms give out completely, and he’s left face down, sobbing into the pillow as he comes. Eddie fucks him through it, drawing out Richie’s orgasm until he thinks he might actually pass out.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Richie’s whimpering while Eddie loses it above him.

“Yeah, shit. Can I come on your face?” Eddie asks urgently, and thats something Richie never thought he would’ve wanted before now. He nods as best as he can with the side of his face still mashed into the pillow, then gasps when Eddie pulls out and flips him over—a show of speed and strength Richie didn’t know he had in him.

He barely has time to blink before Eddie’s knee-walking up the bed until he’s kneeling over Richie’s chest, one hand braced against the headboard, the other a blur on his dick as he jerks himself hard and fast.

Richie wants to help, but he’s useless to do anything but watch as Eddie gets himself off, head thrown back, face twisted in pleasure.

It’s not long before Eddie’s gasping out “Gonna come, gonna come.” He taps Richie’s cheek gently with two fingers, “Look at me.”

Richie’s hazy eyes focus on Eddie’s, and that’s enough apparently—because next thing he knows, Eddie’s crying out loudly, curling in on himself as comes, thick ropes painting Richie’s face.

Eddie’s trembling above him, breathing harsh, and Richie has to close his eyes so he doesn’t see the unbridled emotion on Eddie’s face as he shakes through the aftershocks. When he’s done, he collapses next to Richie, still struggling for breath.

“Dirty.” Richie mumbles tiredly, mostly to himself, and he hears Eddie snort with laughter next to him.

“You love it.”

Richie hums and rolls over, placing a sloppy kiss on Eddie’s forehead, getting Eddie’s own cum on his face in the process.

“You’re disgusting.” Eddie groans, swatting at Richie and wiping his face.

Richie grins, glad that it’s not weird between them, almost like nothing’s changed. “_You love it._” He mocks, and Eddie tries to smother him with his pillow.

+

“You know,” Richie starts conversationally a week or so later. They’re at Richie’s place now, shooting the shit and watching bad TV. “I’ve never sucked dick before, either.”

Eddie _did_ know, but he still chokes on his vitamin water. “Oh?” He says once he recovers.

“Mhm,” Richie hums, and he winks at Eddie in a way that’s supposed to be sexy but mostly makes him look dumb. Eddie’s a goner.

Twenty minutes later, Richie’s sitting on his couch, rubbing at his sore jaw.

“Jesus Christ, I see why it’s called a blow_job_. That shit is hard work.” His voice is still rough from when he’d taken Eddie too deep, gagging himself in the process.

“Not bad for your first time, sport. At least you didn’t throw up on my dick.” Says Eddie from next to him, he pats Richie’s thigh reassuringly.

Richie knows Eddie’s just being an asshole, but he smiles at his friend nonetheless.

Practice does make perfect, after all, and Richie’s nothing if not diligent.

+

It becomes a thing, after that. They still hang out as friends most of the time; Richie still helps Eddie with his statistics homework, they still have movie nights, and play video games, it’s just that sometimes they fuck, too.

And it’s _good _sex. Probably some of the best Eddie’s ever had; definitely the best Richie’s ever had.

It’s so good, so perfect between them, Richie just wishes it could have stayed that way.

One particular night about two months after their arrangement began, they’re in Eddie’s room; Eddie’s got Richie on his side fucking him from behind.

“Fuck!” Richie cries out when Eddie gets him just right, “Oh, fuck, Eddie please.”

“Shhhh, baby.” Eddie croons, the pet name slips out without his permission. “You gotta be quiet. You don’t want Mikey and Bill to hear, do you?”

Richie whimpers, still too loud, before he brings his trembling palm up to his mouth, biting down to muffle the sounds.

Eddie leans in closer, whispering in his ear. “Yeah? Feeling good, Rich?” And Richie nods jerkily, hair tickling Eddie’s cheek.

“I need you to answer me. Out loud.” Eddie says, contrary to the way he just told Richie to keep quiet. “Use your inside voice.”

Richie tears his palm away. “Feels so good, I can’t-, I can’t”

“Yeah, you can.” Eddie breathes, hot against the back of Richie’s neck, “You like it when I fuck you deep like this? Tell me.” His hand speeds up on Richie’s dick, and Richie has to turn his face into the pillow to silence his moans.

“Love it Eds, love it so much, so good, I love it.” Richie’s babbling now, so close to the edge that he’s drooling for it.

Eddie twists his wrist just right on an upstroke, and Richie’s done. He grips the covers tightly, sobbing into his elbow as he comes all over Eddie’s fist and his own stomach.

“So good, Eds, so good, love it, love you so much.” Richie breathes shakily, words tumbling out before he has the chance to stop them. 

Eddie freezes behind him, then gasps, caught off guard. Eddie was close before, but suddenly he’s right at the edge, and he thrusts once, twice more into Richie, coming so hard he whites out for a few moments.

“Richie, what…?” He starts to say when he comes back to himself, catches his breath, but Richie’s eyes are already closed, breathing shallow.

+

Richie wakes up alone in Eddie’s bed, and that in and of itself is enough to alert him that something’s wrong.

He checks his phone to find that it’s just barely after eight o clock in the morning, meaning Bill and Mike would be in class already, but Eddie’s first class isn’t until eleven.

There’s an unopened text from Eddie on his lock screen as well, and Richie smiles at the notification before he reads the message.

It’s chaste and to the point. _See yourself out, _it reads. That’s it.

Richie’s confused. He sends back a questioning “you good eds????” But all he gets in return is read receipt and no response.

It’s weird, Richie thinks, and so unlike Eddie to be so cold and clipped, especially with him. 

Eddie was one of the most loving people Richie knew, but that didn’t mean he was immune to having bad days—Richie knew that firsthand—so that’s what he chalked it up to.

It’s not until a couple days—and a whole lot of ignored texts later—that Richie starts to get worried. He stops by Eddie’s place a couple of times, but it’s like he’s never home any more. Or, if he is, he doesn’t want Richie to know.

Richie spends the better part of a week, wracking his brain trying to play back their previous conversations to find what he did that made Eddie so mad at him. He didn’t forget Eddie’s birthday, or leave dirty shoe prints on the carpet when he was over, he hasn’t even so much as made a joke about Eddie’s mom in _weeks_.

No matter how hard he thinks he comes up empty. All he knows is that his best friend wont talk to him, and that somehow, he fucked up the best thing thats ever happened to him.

Richie rolls his eyes heavenward. God, here they are fighting like an old married couple, and Richie and Eddie aren’t even _together_.

“Oh.” He thinks.

Oh, _fuck._

+

So, Richie’s a little shocked and disappointed to find out that buddyfucking your childhood best friend without catching feelings is a lot harder than it sounds.

He’s also a little shocked but slightly less disappointed to find out that you can’t “catch feelings” if they’ve been there the whole time.

He _needs_ to tell someone. 

Richie opens the door without knocking.

“So remember how I told you I was gay?” Richie asks his roommate and good friend Stan.

"Richie,” Stan says from his seat as his computer desk, “You showed up to my job and pulled me out of a meeting to tell me. How the hell would I forget that? He asks, exasperated.

“Right. Anyway,” Richie says nonchalant, “I have something else to say.” But it’s nervous now, timid.

“Say what you need to say, Rich.” Stan says softer, not used to Richie ever hesitating when it came to speaking his mind.

“I think I might be in love with Eddie.” He says, miserably.

“No shit.” Stan rolls his eyes. “Wait, why do you sound so sad?” He asks, face scrunching up a little in confusion. 

_He’s so adorable_, thinks Richie. He just wants to boop Stan’s nose. Probably would, too, if he didn’t feel so bad.

“Because he wont talk to me,” Richie whines pathetically.

“Well, what the fuck did you do?”

“Nothing!” Richie says defensively, then thinks better of it. “I don’t know. Nothing?”

Stan sighs and pulls Richie into a one armed hug, placing a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“Don’t worry, kid. He’ll come around.”

“You think?”

“Sure, Richie. Give things time to work themselves out. Now get out of my room. I have a Biology assignment due at midnight.”

+

Richie gives things time. They don’t work themselves out.

Another week goes by with radio silence, and Richie’s graduated from worried to full on distraught.

After pacing around his apartment for so long that Stan’s starts glaring daggers at him from his spot on the couch, Richie decides a walk might do him some good.

The sun’s getting ready to set, so he throws on a hoodie, and blows a kiss to Stan before he heads out.

He doesn’t have a destination in mind, but he’s not surprised when his treacherous feet lead him to Eddie’s apartment.

He doesn’t see Eddie’s car out front, but his feet carry him up the stairs and to apartment 214, anyway.

He’s expecting to not get an answer again, but knocks on Eddie’s door anyway because he has to _try._

Richie’s surprised when Mike pokes his head out.

“Hey, man.” He greets, a little less enthusiastic than what Richie’s used to, but it’s not unkind. He mostly just sounds tired. “What’s up?”

“Mikey, hey. Can I come in?” Richie’s never had to ask before, but barging in right now doesn’t feel right.

“Not a good idea, Rich.” At least he has the decency to look apologetic when he says it.

And Richie can’t take the sympathetic look on his face right now, the regret in Mike’s eyes.

He throws his hands up, exasperated. “I don’t fucking get it!” He snaps. “Is Eddie okay? Is he hurt? Is he fucking _alive?_ I’ve been trying to get in touch with him for _weeks_ and he’s not answering my texts or calls and now all of a sudden I’m not welcome here anymore? Mike, dude, what is going on? What did I do? How do I _fix_ it?” Richie’s out of breath by the time he’s finished, looking at Mike with pleading eyes.

“Shit, Richie.” Mike sighs. He steps further out of the apartment, pulling Richie into a tight hug. 

“Go home.” He says against Richie’s shoulder. “Maybe…maybe you can come back tomorrow, but you’ve gotta go. I’m sorry.”

“Mikey, _I’m sorry_, but fuck that.” Richie detangles himself and shoulders passed Mike into the apartment.

“Richie,” Mike pleads, “you’re trespassing. Come on.” He doesn’t make a move to stop him, though.

“Do what you gotta do, man.” Richie calls, making his way through the apartment to Eddie’s room. He pauses when he gets to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.

Richie’s not sure what he’s expecting to see when he opens the door. Maybe an empty room, maybe Eddie tap dancing on the ceiling; but it definitely wasn’t Eddie looking small and huddled in his blankets, sitting at the center of his bed, eyes red and puffy like he hasn’t stopped crying since the last time he and Richie spoke.

Bill’s there, too, sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed, doing something on his phone. They’re not talking, like neither of them is up for conversation but neither of them wanted to be alone, either. It tears at Richie’s heart to see it.

“Eddie, _no.” _He says quietly, and both Eddie and Bill’s heads snap up to look at him.

Bill’s eyes flash with anger when he sees Richie standing there, and he stands up, getting in Richie’s personal space. Richie’s not afraid of him, but he doesn’t want to fight. He lifts his chin defiantly when Bill gets in his face. Bill’s only like an inch taller than him, so it’s not like he really has an edge.

“What the f-f-fuck are you doing huh-here, Richie?” He asks with a venom Richie didn’t know Bill was capable of.

“I’m here to see Eddie.” Richie says like it’s obvious, because it fucking should be.

Bill steps to the left, blocking Richie’s line of sight to Eddie, folding his arms across his chest. “H-he doesn’t want to s-s-see you.”

“That’s not for you to decide, Bill!” Richie cries, feeling like a puppet that just had its strings cut. He’s suddenly so, so tired. Tired of waiting, and wanting, and yelling, and crying.

“Stop.” They both hear called from inside the room. “Just stop.”

Eddie’s looking at them both with wide, sad eyes, and Richie’s hit with an overwhelming urge to hug him, wrap Eddie in his arms and kiss that look right off his face, but he’s frozen in place.

“Billy,” Eddie croaks. “Please, it’s okay. I’ll explain everything later, but Richie and I need to talk.”

Bill looks like he wants to object, but instead he just nods before going back into the room to grab his phone from the floor. He whispers something to Eddie that gets an almost-smile out of him before shouldering his way past Richie and out the door.

It’s awkward in a way that it never is between them, God _never _with them, and Richie, for once, is at a loss. He doesn’t know how to fix it, doesn’t know how to comfort Eddie when he doesn’t even know what he did wrong. No jokes or apologies feel big enough, and he’s so lost.

“Eds, I’m-” He starts at the same time that Eddie says, “Rich-”

He laughs, but that’s awkward, too.

“Go ahead.” Eddie says softly. Richie takes hesitant steps into the room, falling to his knees by Eddie’s bedside.

“I’m so sorry. I hurt you, Eddie. Clearly, I hurt you, and I don’t even know what I did to make you so mad at me. Whatever it is, I’m sorry. We can go back right, Eds? Remember that summer when we were kids and I accidentally pushed you out of that tree and you broke your arm? And you were so mad, Eddie. You got so mad, and you swore you’d never speak to me again. Then the next day we were playing like nothing had even happened between us? God, I miss that. I miss _you_.” Richie chokes on the last sentence, nearly overcome with emotion because this is his best friend. This is the man he loved.

Eddie’s looking at him, face open and vulnerable, teary eyes locking on Richie’s. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He whispers.

Richie shakes his head, taken aback. “No, I– you won’t talk to me, Eds, just tell me what to do and I’ll fix it.”

“There’s nothing for _you_ to fix” Eddie says firmer now. “You didn’t do anything, Richie, this was my own fault. I shouldn’t have shut you out like that, and I’m sorry, but I can’t do this to you anymore. You need to go.”

“You can’t apologize for shutting me out and then shut me out _again_, Eds. I don’t understand.” Richie says, but it’s broken. He’s looking at Eddie, desperately, searching his eyes for a sign, for _anything_ that will make this make sense.

"Do you even remember what you said that night? The last time we…”

“Yes?” Richie cautions, “If that’s what this is about, Eds, I’ll take it back. Please, if it means we can still have our friendship then I’ll act like it never happened.” As much as it pains him to say, it’s the truth. Richie would rather have Eddie in his life as just a friend than not have him at all.

“Shut up, Richie. Just, shut up now, okay? Let me speak, please.” He begs, and Richie can only nod.

“I know that you _think_ you love me.” He holds up a hand when he sees Richie about to interject, “And that’s my fault. I fucking…stockholmed you into these false feelings. I was the first man who ever fucked you, who ever _touched_ you, and I took advantage of that. Of _you_.” Eddie chokes back a sob. “And it was so selfish of me, but God, I wanted you. I wanted you so bad, for so long, I couldn’t help myself.”

"But it isn’t fair to you, you deserve love, you deserve to be able to find that for yourself, and I fucking took that away, can’t you see? I’m so sorry, Rich, I swear.”

Richie blinks once, then twice. “What.” He says weakly.

Eddie looks at him, incredulous. “What do you mean, ‘_what_’?”

Richie shakes his head, covers his mouth, and laughs. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs until he cries. Then he starts crying for real– shoulders hunched, chest wracking with sobs.

“Richie, are you okay?” Eddie asks, confused and more than a little worried, but Richie just shakes his head again.

He looks up at Eddie, feeling raw and open. “We’re so fucking stupid.” Richie croaks.

“That’s nothing new.” Eddie replies, voice still laced with confusion but there’s an almost smile on his face. “Care to elaborate?”

“You didn’t take advantage of _me_. Shit, Eds, I thought _I_ was taking advantage of _you._”

Eddie freezes. “Um. Pardon?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Eds? I show up at your house whining about how I wanted to get dicked down, so you offer up yours like the horny but good samaritan you are, and what do I do? I milk that shit for all its worth. Pun absolutely intended. You made me feel so fucking good, and I couldn’t get enough of it, so I took, and I took, and I took. I used you.”

And Eddie’s reeling, mind going 100 miles an hour. He thinks back to that first night that Richie showed up.

_“You would fuck me, Eddie?” _He hears replayed in his head._ “Yeah, but you would fuck **me**?”_

And it hits Eddie then, like a punch to the solar plexus what Richie was saying- what Richie has _been_ saying.

“Oh, fuck.” Eddie breathes. “You love me? You meant it?”

Richie reaches out then, takes Eddie’s hand in his. “Since we were kids, Eddie.”

“But you didn’t even… you couldn’t have…” He’s not sure how to finish, shaking his head at Richie in disbelief.

“All I know,” Richie says, serious as Eddie’s ever heard him, “Is that when I looked at you, I saw my future, and I knew, I don’t know _how_, but I knew, it was always gonna be you and me, Eds.”

“Rich, I-” Eddie starts, then he’s cutting himself off, lunging forward and grabbing Richie’s face between his hands, and they’re kissing. It’s not rushed and hurried like when they’re fucking, but the desperation is still there.

Richie feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest; like he’s twelve years old again—carving their initials into the tree they used to climb as kids, like he’s 22, staring at his reflection and saying “I‘m gay” for the first time out loud—and he has to pull away, press his forehead against Eddie’s and just breathe. 

When he looks at Eddie, Eddie’s already looking back, brown eyes full of wonder and amazement, and a look that Richie’s familiar with, but could never place.

He’s looking at Richie with _love_.

“Eds.” Richie breathes like a plea, like a prayer, and Eddie leans forward again, kissing Richie softly this time, so soft, like he’s scared Richie’s going to break if he presses too hard. 

He kisses Richie’s lips, and his nose, his cheeks, his closed eyelids. 

Richie can feel warm tears spill down his cheeks, and Eddie kisses those away, too.

They take it slow that night.

Eddie takes his time exploring Richie’s body in a way he never allowed himself to do before. He finds the spots that make Richie moan, and gasp, and arch his back, and shake.

He opens Richie up painfully slow, adding one finger, then two, then three until Richie’s thighs are shaking around him.

Richie doesn’t rush him, though, determined to just take and feel.

He takes out his fingers and pats Richie’s thigh, urging him to turn over, but Richie shakes his head _no_.

“Want it like this. I want to see you.”

And Eddie wants that too.

He applies a generous amount of lube to himself which Richie scoffs at. Eddie just grins at him, feeling a little smug. 

He’s right to feel that way, because Richie sings a different tune when Eddie slides in after one thrust, and he’s taking all of him.

Richie throws his head back against the mattress and moans, way too loud for Eddie’s thin walls, but neither of them care.

Eddie starts to shift his hips after a while, trying to find that spot that’ll have Richie seeing stars. He knows he’s got it when Richie tenses and gasps, like he can’t get enough air, before he squeezes his eyes shut tight and _keens_.

Eddie grins again and aims for that spot, taking Richie higher and higher with each well-aimed thrust.

Richie arches his back, straining against Eddie as he gasps, and pants, and moans, half out of his mind with it.

“Eds, Eddie, Eddie,” He’s babbling now, hands tearing at his own hair. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know.” _Didn’t know you felt the same, didn’t know I could ever have this, didn’t know it could feel this good._

“I know, baby.” Eddie says, strained. Richie’s so tight around him there’s no way he can last for much longer. “Are you close?” He asks desperately. 

Richie just moans again, one hand moving to grip at Eddie’s shoulder, the other on his hip as he holds on for dear life.

Eddie slows to a stop, and Richie whines miserably.

“Noooo. Please don’t stop.” He begs, trying to fuck himself down on Eddie, but Eddie stills him.

“Look at me, Richie.” Eddie demands. It takes a while for Richie’s eyes to focus on anything, but they manage to find Eddie’s and he smiles dopily. “Are you close?” Eddie asks again.

“So close.” Richie says nodding. “Touch me?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on, roll over.” Eddie says, urging Richie onto his side.

Richie goes with it easily enough, whimpering a little when Eddie slips out of him.

Eddie hushes him, runs a soothing hand along Richie’s thigh and lines himself back up, bottoming out again.

“So deep.” Richie breathes, and Eddie moans outright at that. He gets a hand wrapped around Richie’s dick, stroking in time with his thrusts.

It’s slow enough that the build-up leaves Richie breathless, clawing at the sheets because it’s that intense.

“Eddie, fuck, _fuck” _Richie whines, high and reedy, and Eddie knows he’s gonna blow soon.

“That’s it, baby, you’re doing so good. I love you. Love you so much, Richie.”

Richie’s body goes taut before he starts to shake. He reaches back to pull Eddie’s head down, crying out into his mouth as he comes and comes and comes.

“Fuck!” Eddie yells, slamming into him a few more times before he buries his face in Richie’s neck, breath hot against Richie’s skin as he pants and fills the condom.

Eddie pulls out when he’s done, tying off the condom and throwing it into the trashcan by his bed.

He collapses next to Richie, who’s still trembling a little bit.

“You’re crying.” Eddie whispers, wiping the tears away. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m good, Eds. I think you just made my heart nut.” Richie says kinda stupidly, and Eddie wants to scream.

“Those are called _feelings_, Richie. Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

+

This time, when Richie wakes up alone in Eddie’s bed, it doesn’t feel wrong. 

He’s not sticky and disgusting, meaning Eddie must’ve cleaned them up some time during the night.

He can hear Eddie, Bill, and Mike in the living room talking quietly amongst themselves, and some b-grade movie playing in the background.

He pads into the living area, and all three heads snap up when they hear him come in.

Richie’s only got eyes for Eddie though, because he’s sitting on the floor by the coffee table in just his boxers and Richie’s hoodie from last night, looking sleep-soft and warm, wearing the sweetest smile Richie’s ever seen on his face.

Richie smiles back and is about to go join him when a hand on his shoulder stops him. Jesus, he didn’t even notice Bill walk over.

“Hey, can we t-talk?” Bill asks, blue eyes wide and earnest.

“Absolutely, Billiam.” Richie nods, and lets himself be pulled into the kitchen and away from the prying ears of Eddie and Mike.

Bill makes his way to the Keurig, raising a mug and his eyebrows in question. _You want one? _And Richie nods. 

They stand in silence while the machine sputters and hisses, but it’s not really uncomfortable.

“S-sorry for being a dick.” Bill says, cutting straight to the point. He hands Richie a mug of hazelnut flavored black coffee and Richie moans in elation.

“I’m sorry you were a dick, too.” Richie says, adding way too much cream to his coffee. Eddie would have a fit if he saw it.

“I’m serious, R-ruh-richie. Eddie explained everything to us th-this morning. This w-whole time, I d-didn’t know why you guys weren’t t-t-talking. Just that he left h-his room that morning in t-t-ears. I assumed the w-w-w–_fuck_– the worst. I love you, man, but this is a s-strictly team Eddie household.”

Richie claps Bill on the back amiably. “I get it, Billy.” He says, because he really, really does. “I’m not mad, I swear.”

Bill was just doing what he thought was right, protecting Eddie the only way he knew how to in that situation. Who the fuck is Richie to hold that against him?

“Th-thanks, Rich.” Bill says, he leans against Richie’s side a little bit, and Richie throws an arm over his shoulder.

They’re quiet for a little while again before Bill leans over and whispers, “C-c-can I t-t-tell you something?”

“I’m all ears.” Richie says, eyes cutting to Bill’s.

“You’re all nose.” Bill says at normal volume, unable to resist, and Richie puts a hand over his heart and gasps.

“Hitting me where it hurts, Billiam. I didn’t expect that from _you_, I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover.” Richie mimes a knife stabbing his heart over and over.

Bill rolls his eyes and laughs, before sobering up. “B-but seriously, Rich. I wanted to t-tell you, too. I’m bisexual. I l-l-like guys.” Bill’s smiling as he says it, so Richie smiles, too.

“That’s awesome, man. Welcome to the club. You’re too little too late, though, sadly. I’m already spoken for.” Richie says, dramatically pointing towards the living room and mouthing “Eddie.”

“Y-you’re an idiot. ” Bill says fondly. Then, “We would n-never work out, b-because I have standards.”

“I’m a fucking catch.” Richie scoffs, pretending to be hurt before pulling Bill into a headlock, and giving him a noogie–which is completely childish and uncalled for if you ask Bill.

He fights his way out of it, knocking Richie’s glasses off his face to throw him off, before licking his finger and sticking it into Richie’s unsuspecting ear.

“What the fuck!” He yells, knocking Bill’s hand away, and then the two of them are laughing until it hurts.

“So,” Richie starts, leaning back against the counter, still panting a little. “Who’s the lucky guy that piqued your interest, Big Bill?”

“H-he’s in my Biology class. He’s probably one of the s-s-smartest p-people I’ve ever talked to. We actually h-have a date c-c-coming up.”

“Yeah?” Richie smiles, “What’s he look like?” He waggles his eyebrows ridiculously, winking at Bill.

And Bill just..lights up like a Christmas tree. “He-s like our height. He’s got c-curly brown hair, a-and the c-cutest nose ever p-probably.”

Richie freezes. “What’s his name?” He says through gritted teeth.

“Huh?” Bill asks, clearly taken aback.

“What’s his fucking name, Bill?”

“S-stanley. Why?”

Richie rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. 

“You have _got _to be fucking kidding me.”

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> i havent played mortal combat since i was like 10 i dont know how it goes anymore. also how many song references can i fit into a fic? i literally have part of cleopatra by the lumineers somewhere in here first one to guess wins.  
questions / comments are appreciated!!!


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